


Stolen Moments

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Voyeurism, attempts were made at UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-04 10:19:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fíli and Kíli have each been pining after the other for some time now. An interesting opportunity presents itself when their mother leaves them alone in the house for an afternoon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stolen Moments

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ceealaina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceealaina/gifts).



“ _Kíli_!” Dís’s shout rang through the kitchen, echoing slightly in the enclosed space. Kíli jerked his gaze guiltily away from one of the few windows that provided natural light, nearly dropping the pans he’d been pulling out of the cabinet.

“Yes, Mother?” he asked brightly, trying to play off his momentary distraction. But Dís was not to be placated, and his stomach sank as she made her way over.

“Honestly, this isn’t like you. What on _earth_ has so occupied your attention…?” She trailed off as she finally got a look out the window, and saw that Fíli, who’d been sent out earlier to chop wood while Kíli stayed in to help his mother with the canning, had apparently grown warm enough through his exertions to remove his shirt. She raised an eyebrow as she turned to look at Kíli.

“I…I was j-just…thinking that I should be helping him!” Kíli said, searching desperately for an excuse for his staring.

“Were you,” Dís replied, not at all sounding convinced.

“It’s quite a lot of wood,” Kíli said innocently. “It seems unfair to ask Fíli to deal with all of it himself.”

Dís snorted. “You’ll get your chance at chopping in the afternoon. For now, you’re helping me here.” As she turned away he _thought_ he heard her mutter something about losing a foot to the axe, but dismissed it as he tried to focus once more on his task.

Two more dropped pans and a shattered jar as he craned his neck to catch another glimpse had Dís physically shoving him out of the kitchen. “Don’t you dare touch any axes,” she warned him. “The yard isn’t big enough for the two of you to be chopping at once. You’ll be sweeping out the woodshed to prepare it.”

“Yes, Mother,” he said, trying not to look too eager to get out of the house. She rolled her eyes and turned back to her canning, leaving him to seek out his new chore on his own.

Kíli made his way around the house, but paused for a moment before rounding the corner. He could hear the steady _thunk-thunk-thunk_ of the axe against the wood as Fíli chopped the firewood that would last them through the coming winter. He licked his lips absentmindedly as he peered around the corner, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of Fíli’s bare back, the shifting of the thick muscles under his fair skin, the vulnerable curve of the nape of his neck, revealed because his hair had been tied up in a knot on the back of his head to keep it out of the way.

Then Fíli shifted, dropping the axe in his right hand as he straightened, rolling his shoulders. Kíli’s breath caught in his throat as he watched the movement, and how his bicep stretched and bulged as he lifted his left hand to wipe his forehead.

Kíli gulped hard as he whipped his head back around the corner of the house. He took a few deep breaths, trying to center himself before he had to interact with his brother. When he finally thought he might be able to get through a conversation without embarrassing himself, he stepped around the corner and greeted his brother.

“D’you reckon we’ll have enough for the whole winter?” he asked, trying very hard to keep his eyes on Fíli’s when his brother turned.

“Kíli,” Fíli said, grinning. “We will if you get off your lazy ass and help me.”

Kíli chuckled. “Sorry. Mother said I couldn’t.”

Fíli snorted, but his smile lingered in his eyes and Kíli’s stomach flipped. He loved making Fíli smile like that. “So what task has she set for you?” Fíli asked, his voice bringing Kíli back to himself.

“Oh—sweeping out the woodshed,” Kíli said, shaking his head slightly. He was going to have to be more careful; he couldn’t get lost in his admiration of his brother while Fíli was expecting a response.

“Best get to it, little brother,” Fíli said with another grin, turning back to his task as he hefted the axe up again. Kíli lingered for only a moment in admiration of Fíli’s form, just long enough to notice a certain tightness to Fíli’s shoulders that hadn’t been there before. He ducked into the woodshed, willing to spare his brother the audience if it made him self-conscious.

~*~

Fíli went back to chopping wood, trying not to pay any mind to Kíli’s presence so nearby. Kíli was meant to be inside helping their mother; he was _not_ meant to be out here, where Fíli couldn’t help but he hyperaware of his presence.

His one saving grace was that Kíli was at least inside the woodshed, and so not as much of a distraction as he might’ve been. Had Kíli been _outside_ , had he been sent to help with the wood, Fíli had the sinking feeling that he and his axe would’ve become a danger to the both of them.

As it was, just hearing Kíli move around inside the woodshed was enough to make it difficult to get back into the steady rhythm of chopping again.

It felt as though hours had passed by the time their mother called them in for lunch, but Kíli was only just emerging from the woodshed and he wasn’t _that_ bad at sweeping.

Fíli sighed and leaned the axe against the block as he pulled his shirt back over his head. He joined Kíli at the pump, washing their hands in the cold water before heeding their mother and going into the kitchen.

Dís seemed distinctly annoyed, and Fíli looked over at his brother for a clue to her bad mood. Kíli looked faintly guilty, but shrugged when he met Fíli’s inquisitive gaze. So he’d done something, but nothing to cause _that_ much ire. Nothing for it, then.

“Something wrong, Mother?” Fíli asked as he tucked in to his food.

“I’ve come up short on jars,” she said, “I’ll have to walk in to town to get more.” She looked up, catching both of their eyes. “I’ll be a few hours. And I expect the rest of this work to be done when I get back.”

“Yes, Mother,” they chorused, both ducking their heads in response to her gimlet stare. Her glare softened and she swept over and kissed both of them on the forehead before she left, which they both bore with stoic tolerance.

Finally she was gone, and the two exchanged glances.

“Best not to risk leaving anything unfinished, she’s on edge enough as it is,” Kíli said, and Fíli nodded.

“For once you speak sense,” he teased, grinning in the face of Kíli’s scowl. “I’ll finish the chopping. I didn’t get as much done as I’d planned in the morning.”

Kíli heaved a heavy sigh and looked around him woefully. “I suppose I’ll clean up in here,” he grumbled.

Fíli ducked his head to hide his amusement at Kíli’s petulance as he walked out. “Good luck, little brother!” he called behind him, making a cursory attempt to keep the laughter out of his voice.

Kíli’s curses following him out of the house indicated he probably hadn’t succeeded.

~*~

A few hours later, Fíli was completing the last of the wood. He’d removed his shirt once more, the chill in the air soothing on his overheated skin. He paused a moment, wiping the sweat from his brow, and twisted a bit to stretch. He caught a glimpse of Kíli’s face at the kitchen window, and turned to wave and indicate he was nearly done, but his brother ducked quickly out of the way. Fíli frowned. That was odd. He put it out of his mind and went back to chopping.

Not five minutes later, he looked over the neatly stacked wood with satisfaction. It wasn’t enough to last the winter, but it was good enough for a day’s work. He stretched hard, and reached for his shirt to put it back on.

He headed for the kitchen, looking for Kíli. But his brother wasn’t there, though he’d at least left the room clean.

He wandered along the hallway, figuring Kíli was probably in their room. The door was cracked open, and he could hear some rustling behind it when he got close. It seemed he’d been right.

Fíli reached out, about to knock and enter, when a low moan made him freeze. That…that wasn’t pain. He knew what Kíli sounded like when he was in pain. That was…his breath caught in his throat. Was Kíli _touching_ himself?

His brother was _right there_. The temptation was too much to resist. Anticipation and guilt settled in his stomach, making him nauseous but not able to mask his excitement. He pressed himself to the wall next to the partly opened door, trying to catch a glimpse of Kíli.

He was lucky—or perhaps unlucky. The angle was excellent, though the narrow gap cut out much of his vision. He could make Kíli out very well, but only in snatches.

Kíli’s trousers were pushed down, just out of the way, and his shirt was rucked up a bit. He’d clearly just wanted to get them out of the way; he’d been in a hurry then. What had gotten him so worked up? Fíli thought back for a moment to Kíli’s face ducking out of the kitchen window, of his brother maybe watching him work shirtless. He tried to dismiss the thought; there wasn’t enough proof to get his hopes up and it was foolish to dream.

He could see, from his vantage point, how Kíli took himself in hand. He watched, fascinated, as Kíli’s touch turned harsher, more desperate, as his cock disappeared in his fist over and over. He could feel himself begin to grow hard, and he absently cupped his crotch. But a sudden and unexpected growl of frustration from Kíli and he was hard as iron, frantically tearing his clothes open before he came in his pants. He whipped away from the doorway before his frantic movements could catch Kíli’s attention.

Fíli groaned low in his throat, clenching his teeth to try to keep the sound in, as he grasped the base of his cock, slowly sliding his hand up. He edged over, trying to look through the crack in the door again without revealing his presence. Kíli was arching his back now, thrusting up into his fist. His hair fanned out under his head. A stray thought crossed Fíli’s mind: with the way he was moving, it’d be a tangled mess by the time he was finished.

But then Kíli let out a gasp, and Fíli’s attention was once more taken over by the task at hand. He bit his lower lip hard, and pressed the back of his head against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut. It was too risky to chance another peak; what if Kíli saw him? But the temptation was too great. He looked again, staring for as long as he dared at the flush on Kíli’s cheeks, the wrinkles around his eyes as he clenched them shut, the way his mouth went slack with his moans. He watched, fascinated, at the way Kíli thumbed the head of his cock.

He copied the movement, his eyes fluttering shut as he traded the reality for fantasy, imagining himself across the room, that it was Kíli’s cock in his hand and Kíli’s hand on his. He strained his ears, listening to the slick sounds of Kíli’s hand and the noises he made, using them to further his own fantasy. How would he manage to pull those sounds from his brother’s lips? What would Kíli do to him, how would he go about pleasuring a lover?

Kíli’s moans were growing more frantic now, his movements speeding up, and Fíli tried to match him. He came with a low groan and a sigh, and Fíli pressed a hand to his mouth to muffle his own moan when he came as well, spurred on by the sound of his brother’s orgasm.

He stood in the hallway for a moment, catching his breath and trying to absorb what had just happened. What he’d just done. The rustle of cloth from behind the door that was still cracked open stirred him from his fugue. Fíli hurried to the kitchen as quietly as he could, holding his befouled hand out in front of him.

He found a rag and cleaned himself as best he could, putting himself back to rights and trying not to think too hard about what his actions would— _could_ —mean for them. He turned to regard the hallway for a moment, chewing on his lip.

He walked slowly back to the bedroom door. Did he dare? He knew—he _knew_ —Kíli had been watching him just before--well, before. It couldn't possibly be a coincidence. And he couldn't reasonably expect Kíli to have taken such a chance, confessing his feelings and potentially ruining the relationship between them if they were unrequited. But...maybe it was just a coincidence. No, _probably_ it was a coincidence. Fíli couldn’t chance being the one to ruin everything.

He paused for a moment just outside the door, the fragile new hope that his affections were returned warring with his accustomed determination that Kíli would never know. No, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t approach Kíli about this openly. But some perverse part of him still wanted to see his brother, wanted some sort of intimacy even if Kíli didn’t know about what they’d just shared.

He knocked briefly on the door and entered just before Kíli hollered for him to wait a moment. His resolve to hold back on confessing his feelings was sorely tested by the sight of his brother still rumpled and unkempt, though thankfully for the sake of his nerves he was at least decently covered. And his hair...Fíli's lips quirked up in a rueful smile. It was a horrid rat's nest, just as he had thought.

Kíli scowled at him, but he could see the panic on his brother’s face. “Don’t you know what a closed door _means_?” Kíli demanded.

“Wasn’t latched,” Fíli answered with a shrug. His palms were sweating. “Your hair’s a mess. Want me to fix it?”

Kíli grew red, but nodded and sat on the very edge of Fíli’s bed—not his own, where he’d been writhing in pleasure only a few minutes earlier, so Fíli’s treacherous thoughts reminded him. Fíli settled gingerly behind him, taking up a comb and beginning to work through Kíli’s hair.

They sat together in silence, but slowly the tension and awkwardness began to bleed out of the both of them. Kíli leaned into Fíli’s touch a bit, but even now Fíli didn’t dare let his hands linger. His strokes slowly grew longer and more fluid, and soon enough Kíli looked presentable once more. His hand slowed, and then stopped, and while he couldn’t bring himself to press closer, he also couldn’t bear to tear himself away.

~*~

Kíli shifted, still slightly tense. To have the object of his fantasies just walk in the room so soon after he’d found release was nerve-wracking, but as he calmed down he began to grow suspicious over the timing. He’d only just cleaned up and gotten his clothes back in order. And Fíli’s skin didn’t have the chill it would have if he’d just come in from outside; he’d been in the house for a bit. Could he know what Kíli’d been doing?

And if he did know…to come in and ask to comb his hair, of all things. Was it too much wistful thinking to wonder if maybe his feelings might not be so one-sided?

He was hyperaware of Fíli still at his back, even though he’d finished fixing his hair. Kíli took a deep breath and turned, meeting Fíli’s eyes, which widened in surprise.

“Fíli,” he began, and winced at the nervousness clear in his voice.

“Yes?” Fíli said, and maybe it was a little too quick, a little too eager.

Kíli’s heart was in his throat. “Did you…um, were you…” But before he managed to find a way of asking his brother if he’d known Kíli was jerking off, and if so why had he come into the room so soon after, there was a great commotion from the front hall. Their mother was home.

The moment was broken. The two of them scrambled out to meet her, but Kíli caught Fíli’s eye and felt something warm blossom in his chest at the hope and wary nerves he saw there.


End file.
